Limitless
by FindMe1nTheAlps
Summary: Strength is limitless, as long as you have something to fight for.
1. Chapter 1: Enslaved

Whoops, first uploading got fucked up. Lets try this again.

* * *

When a star dies it's light can still be seen from lightyears away, long after it ceases to exist. Even though the heart of the star was destroyed the heat still lingers and people often don't seem to realize it's gone until one night the light is no longer there, leaving behind a dark forgotten space. But these lights disappear so often that no one would think twice about them anymore. They forget that every single light in the sky has it's own legacy, it's own cry just before death, it's own remnants travelling through the universe still being seen by those who wouldn't bother a second glance.

There's an age old question asked when stary eyes gaze up at darkened skies and the heart seems to welcome in oblivion; If a star dies in space and no one is left to mourn it, had it even existed in the first place?

But some stars go out with a cry louder than the others, some lights still shine brightly, and some people remember. Some stars refuse to die.

Deep within the folds of the universe, where some say a darkness reaches with claws blacker than the space between stars, a predestined planet dominated a small pocket of a brilliant celestial system.

Vegeta imposed against the star studded blackness like an angry red eye, glaring at the vast space around it, just daring the universe to try its stubborn pride. It's scorching red sands and howling purple skies made it a hostile cradle for life, but to it's inhabitants it was home. The people reflected their planet with the strength and admiration that legends would inspire for generations. The Saiyans were a proud and powerful people, known for their ruthlessness in battle and their vindictive strength that made lesser hearts shiver in trepidation. Their hides were tough like the deserts that dominated the planet, their hearts unyielding as the rocky mountainous ranges, their resolve harsh like the unrelenting wind that crumbled even the most stubborn of spires.

Considered barbaric in nature the Saiyans were mostly left alone, only the bravest and most powerful warriors dared to challenge the battle hungry race. The Saiyans lived to fight, to conquer. Their blood would sing with battle lust, they thrived on war and destruction. Their need to feed their bloodlust overshadowed that of food and drink. A saiyan deprived of battle was like a great tree deprived of sunlight; sickly and stunted.

But the Saiyans were not mindless beasts, as some would believe. Intelligence and cunning were not rare in the masses. They lived an honored existence; superior in their genetic makeup, advanced in their technology and outer space exploits; gifts given to them by their alien neighbors, but they learned to use them and use them well. They built cities and government, nothing like the metropolises and webbed political systems on the Capital World, but developed all the same.

They built their homes and artifacts from the gifts provided to them by Vegeta, their pride and joy. Their planet gave them life and soul and the Saiyans honored their home with reverence. Only the strongest and wisest were deemed worthy enough to rule, and the subjects lived to prove their unwavering devotion. Their cities were carved into the mountains and canyons, a reminder of their gifted existence, their birthmark on the flesh of the planet.

The royal palace formidably claimed the tallest spires with a dominance that bent all of it's far reaching domain on it's knees in loyalty. The red stone bled in the scorching heat of the two suns like a great warrior standing victoriously after battle. It's towers jutted up defiantly into the angry red sky, it's walls strong and unyielding against the elements.

The Hall of Kings was the center of Saiyan pride. The high reaching walls were adorned with rich Saiyan culture; ancient myths and legends of great heroes were woven into regal tapestries, Epics were carved into the bones of the palace telling of fantastic battles and prophecies yet to come. Statues of the almighty Oozaru- the Saiyan's form of true power -stood watch over the hall, ruby eyes praising those who were worthy, damning those who were not.

High Commander Nappa marched purposefully through the hall, his eyes trailing over the tales of his people, an air of pride puffing his chest. Tucked beneath his large arm rested a small decorative box, the glittering jewels whispering to everyone's eyes that something precious lay hidden inside. The strong Saiyan warrior was willing to die for what he carried, his loyalty swelling his heart and straightening his spine.

Passed the Hall of Kings and into the heart of the palace he journeyed, nodding to passing guards who tipped their heads in respect. Deeper he marched until he came to a heavily guarded corridor where the happy gurglings of a babe sung in his sensitive ears.

He shadowed the arch of an open set of wide doors, pausing to make sure his armor rested straight on his chest. He was faced with the back of a woman whose dark Auburn hair cascaded in elegant waves to her heels, precious beads and red twine decorated her locks like an armor of regality. Her vigil was kept over a bubble-like chamber that protected something far more precious than any star inside.

Nappa clicked his heels together, and presented a low bow of respect. "My Queen," he purred, the beginnings of a smile tugging his mustache askew.

The Saiyan Queen turned at the presence of her Commander, revealing an elegant and refined face with a strong glint in her eye. She beamed at Nappa, her radiance brightening the room tenfold, her joy spilling out into the corridor to reach the hearts of the crown's most trusted guards.

"Oh Nappa," she sang, an uplifting of her hand freeing the warrior from his bow. "Do you have it?"

Nappa did not disappoint. He presented his Queen with the box he guarded, and the brightening of her eyes easily put the shining precious jewels to shame.

She turned once more to reach inside the bubble-like chamber beside her and very gently retrieved a bundle of royal red velvet that draped to the floor in shimmering waves. She held the bundle close to her chest, and between the protective folds a squirming baby fussed and bubbled against the beating of her heart. Tiny fists reached into the air to grasp at things only the child could see and The Queen chucked, her laughter chiming like the bells of Nirvana.

Enthralled by the beauty of what he beheld, Nappa stepped forward, two of his strides covering half of the large room. As he drew near, a small brown furred tail fought it's way through the folds of the blanket to sway restlessly in the open air. With a surge of Saiyan pride bursting in his chest Nappa took in the flame of pitch dark hair heralding the baby's royal heritage, and the strong set features of his King.

"Isn't he beautiful?" The Queen whispered, adoration softening her voice.

Nappa felt the air stolen from his lungs as the babe's long lashes fluttered open to reveal striking obsidian eyes. The child's gaze pierced him with an intensity that sent a shiver down the hardened warrior's spine.

"He is." Nappa mumbled, momentarily forgetting himself. The child was tiny, not even reaching the length of his forearm. "He's so small." The words had tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them and Nappa's eyes bugged in horror. "I mean, he's a baby," he corrected dumbly, mortified that he had just offended the royal family. He sheepishly braced himself for the lashing he was about to receive and rightfully deserved. "My deepest apologies, your Grace."

But the Queen graciously dismissed his thoughtless outburst with a sly wink of her lashes, and Nappa felt his heart stutter in gratefulness. The Queen was known for her perilous battle reputation, but she was also patient and understanding, rare attributes for the Saiyan people. She was powerful enough to beat Vegeta's most esteemed warriors into submission, but she chose to rule with a benevolence that left everyone too charmed to argue against. She was the perfect queen, respected by all, and she would make an excellent mother to the new Prince.

Shaking his head lightly, Nappa produced the box he nearly forgot he carried, opening it to reveal the awaited prize.

The Saiyan Queen hummed at the sight of the small golden medallion, it's center blue stone winking mischievously under the torchlight. "My trusted Commander, would you please assist a proud mother?"

If possible, Nappa filled with even more pride, unable to hold his immense feeling of joy in check. "I would be honored, my Queen."

The Saiyan Queen smiled graciously as Nappa lifted the medallion from the box to secure it around the young Prince's neck. The baby watched Nappa's every move with narrowed, curious eyes. The Prince started at the cold press of the medallion against his bare skin and an angry flush brightened his severe features. His small tail lashed out in anger and latched itself almost painfully around Nappa's large wrist. Afraid he might hurt his young Prince, Nappa stilled under the babe's deceptively strong grip, wary of even the slightest movement.

With a motherly touch the Queen freed her Commander from her son's iron grip, chuckling as she did so. The Prince then curled his tail around his mother's fingers- much lighter this time -and growled his displeasure. All was forgotten, but not forgiven as the Prince's attention turned to the medallion he had gripped in his tiny fists. He grumbled as the jewels proved hard to remove from their golden bed.

"He's going to be strong," the Queen wondered, soothing her tempered baby with a gentle caress of his cheek. "Vegeta, my little prince."

Nappa nodded, already the boy showed tremendous strength, and at only a few days old. He would carry the namesake of their people well. "Indeed, he will make a great warrior, and a fine King."

"And he's going to be handsome too," the proud mother gushed. "Just like his father."

A deep rumbling laugh alerted the attention of both Commander and Queen. Nappa bowed low in respect for the arrival of the King of all Saiyans.

"The Saiyan race could never ask for a finer Son."

Nappa couldn't agree more, pressing a fist over his heart. "King Vegeta."

The strongest and proudest of all the Saiyans swept into the room in a bellow of his royal armor and decorum. King Vegeta eyed Nappa impassively from beneath his severe brow before releasing the large man from his bow. His hard set features instantly formed into a broad grin as he approached his mate and offspring.

"My _hatcci_ ," the Queen's endearment sweetened the ears of the Saiyan men and beckoned to her mate's heart as she reached for his arm.

The Prince mewled happily at the sight of his father, kicking his little legs and flicking his tail in excitement.

"Onyonna," The proud King stepped forward to meet his Queen, and Nappa cast his eyes to his boots in respect, willing to leave the royal family in their privacy but knowing he was not yet dismissed. The little Prince Vegeta fussed in his mother's arms for attention, voicing loudly his displeasure at being ignored.

King Vegeta raised a dark brow at his son's antics, his eyes softening as he reached for the medallion. "I remember when this was once mine," he spoke firmly, rubbing his thumb over the precious blue stone as the Prince grasped his father's large finger in his hand. "It's weight is heavy, but you will be strong enough to carry it." The conviction in the King Vegeta's voice caused the baby's eyes to flash in delight, and he was rewarded with a toothless grin.

"You should expose him to your ki," The Queen offered with a brilliant flicker in her eye. "Let him feel the power of his birthright."

King Vegeta acquiesced wordlessly, raising a finger a few inches from the Prince's wide eyes. The baby did not flinch as a pinprick of brilliant orange light flickered to life at the tip of the King's finger, casting long shadows across the room, pulsing dangerously within the child's grasp.

Enthralled by the heat and raw power the light suspended in front of him held, Prince Vegeta reached out to touch the tiny star gifted to him by his father. As his fingers neared the light, the little Prince felt something swell and release within him; a warm energy resonating in his very bones, starting from his core and spreading through his body, like a mother's kiss on his forehead. He was not afraid of it, nor did he struggle to let it take him over, flow through his body and gather in his hand. His little finger touched his father's light and the energy expanded, turning white and growing just a little between father and son.

The little Prince Vegeta felt his father's pride echo in his mind and saw his mother's adoring smile in the shining light he helped to create. He squealed happily, and looked to the other man in the room for more praise.

Nappa grinned and lightly clapped his large hands. "Wow! Look at all that power!"

The baby kicked his legs in agreement, his pointed little nose scrunched up in concentration as he instinctively tried to feed more energy to the miniscule ball of light.

"Slow down, little one," the Queen cautioned her very determined baby. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

"No, let him test his strength." King Vegeta commanded with a quirking of his lip. "He must learn how to wield his power, how to control it. On his own, he must learn his limit."

Nappa watched intently as the little ball of ki grew slowly, pulsating and even crackling with power, sending dark shadows across the young Prince's face. But the commander saw even darker shadows starting to writhe in the boy's fathomless eyes, highlighted by a sort of manic fascination that did not sit well in Nappa's gut. No, he didn't think he liked that look in the Prince's eyes at all.

But the King and Queen seemed oblivious as they cooed at their son's strength, and Nappa quickly tried to shake the odd feeling away. It was just a baby, what harm could he do?

"King Vegeta,"

At the call of his name the King dissipated the growing ball of light, ignoring his son's cry of dismay. He turned his attention to the figure boldly shadowing the door.

"Apologies for the intrusion." Ardenyolk, Vegeta's top lieutenant, quickly saluted his King and commander, and acknowledged his Queen with a polite bow.

"Speak," Vegeta barked, eyeing the reluctant set of the Saiyan's shoulders.

Ardenyolk swallowed thickly before reporting. "Lord Frieza requests an audience," the air in the room suddenly turned cold. "Immediately."

The King and Queen exchanged a look between each other, Vegeta's bones turning to stone beneath his skin. Onyonna's face didn't change, but her eyes swelled with fear and she gripped her baby tight to her body. The Prince began to grow agitated, confused at the lack of smiles and attention.

"Sir?" Ardenyolk quietly cut in, the sudden tension making everyone uneasy.

King Vegeta held his mate's eyes as she nodded. "Nappa, with me."

The commander quickly dismissed himself from the Queen's presence before following his King as he swept from the room.

The soldiers on guard snapped to attention, saluting their King as he passed them by, long strides carrying him further away from the cries of his son.

Ardenyolk fell into step beside Nappa as they made way down to port, awaiting orders. They exchanged a wordless agreement that whatever was about to happen, it definitely wouldn't be good. Meetings with Frieza never ended in their favor.

Vegeta addressed the lieutenant on his right. "No one is to enter or leave the palace in my absence."

"Understood, Sir."

Nappa watched the young lieutenant leave to carry out his duties, his brow furrowed in concern. "You fear an assassination attempt?"

"The Prince was born mere suns ago and Frieza demands to meet now, this presents an opportunity few would ignore." The King answered bitterly.

Nappa took a moment to puzzle through the logic. "Do you really think he wants the royal family dead?"

"I don't know what the bastard wants, but he's not getting it." Vegeta entered the landing deck, his crimson cape snapping behind him. "I refuse to stand by and let that freak take control of _my_ kingdom."

Nappa followed his King into a shuttle already waiting, armed with the King's personal guard. "And if he threatens war, what's our plan of action then?"

A scowl deepened the lines of King Vegeta's face as the shuttle left port, shooting off to the stars and the massive flagship waiting just outside the planet's reach. "We're Saiyans, Nappa. We never cower from a threat."

* * *

Nappa had been inside Frieza's flagship three times, each time had gone to the same meeting room, and each time swore that the arrangement of the halls changed. Even now he thought he could feel them moving, changing paths and directions as the Saiyan's passed. Nappa felt that the walls were more than just metal, not alive, but embedded with something far more sinister, caked with evil and the sorrow of billions like soot from an all consuming fire. He was careful not to touch them.

What's more was that other than the sound of footsteps that counted more than the bodies Nappa could see, the ship was completely silent, far too silent. Frieza's soldiers were everywhere, patrolling or standing guard, and not one of them spoke. Nappa observed them; aliens of all different races from all corners of the twelve quadrants, but all of them wore the same defective, senseless faces. He swallowed, eyes watching for an attack, but the soldiers they passed seem to ignore their existence completely. This angered Nappa's Saiyan pride; how dare these men show such disrespect to a King.

He studied his King, impressed with the way Vegeta fearlessly strutted down the curving halls like he owned them. Nothing could intimidate the King of all Saiyans; he would sooner have Frieza begging for mercy on his knees than bow before that freak.

Nappa allowed his King's resolve fuel his own courage. Vegeta was strong, a good leader. He would protect his people, and Nappa would protect his King.

They stopped just outside a set of large black doors, the soldier that silently escorted them eyed King Vegeta with amusement. "Our Lord Frieza will see you now. He is displeased with the amount of time it took for you to arrive, Saiyan."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the challenge, glaring at the alien a full two heads shorter than himself. " _Your_ Lord Frieza can wait as long as it takes for me to decide to accept his invitation."

The soldier laughed loudly, but it was devoid of any mirth. "That's what they all say, at first." He then opened the doors, cutting off any retort the King may have had.

King Vegeta boldly stepped in, walking straight to the center of the room. His guard shadowed him, and Nappa took his place behind his King. But the moment Nappa stepped in the room the steadfast resolve he had built since entering the ship quaked when a wave of something he couldn't see assaulted his every sense, like being submerged into a freezing pool of liquid. It felt wrong, _evil_. He swallowed his sudden fear, and observed his surroundings.

The room featured an impressive viewport facing Planet Vegeta, the red horizon making Nappa's gut clench for reasons he could not explain. Disrupting his view of the scene, like a spot of impurity on a painting, was a throne hovering above the dark purple tile, it's back facing the Saiyans. The only sign of it's occupant was a bone white hand cradling a crystal wine glass. A large green alien straightened from whispering something in the owner's ear and stood to the side, a smirk caressing his handsome face. Standing on the other side of the throne was a grinning fuchsia alien, it's girth rivaling it's height. Nappa didn't think he had ever seen something so ugly.

The hand began to twirl the wine glass, the pink liquid sloshing delicately with the gentle movement. "Ah, Vegeta, how nice of you to finally arrive."

Nappa grimaced at the shrill voice cutting his ears like shards of glass, the sound making the fur on his tail stand on end.

"What do you want, Frieza?" King Vegeta growled, annoyance clear in his voice.

The creature in the throne tsked, the wine glass still twirling in it's long fingers. "My, you Saiyans are always so impatient, no time for pleasantries or edicate. Well, I suppose it's to be expected when working with barbarians."

Nappa bristled, anger tensing his muscles and loosening his tongue.

King Vegeta stepped forward, raising his voice to a level used to send the strongest Saiyan warriors with their tails between their legs. "I will not stand here and be insulted by the likes of you, freak!"

The wine glass stopped twirling, and the air in the room grew very still.

Nappa held his breath, waiting for something, anything to happen, for something to move again. The silence stretched the distance of space, growing more suffocating with each moment.

"It seems that I have offended you. Forgive me, perhaps _I_ was out of line." The throne turned to face the Saiyans, revealing a hideous pink creature, his legs daintily crossed, dark red lips stretched into a pleasant smile. "Afterall, I invited you here to _my_ ship, offered you _my_ hospitality, and you come in rudely demanding that I 'tell you what I want'."

While Frieza's smile was friendly, the malicious gleam in his ruby red eyes was anything but. Whatever anger and courage Nappa felt before was slowly starting to die. It was hard to maintain any sort of bravado when faced with something so perversely wicked. It was the taste in the air, like fear and death, silent and dangerous like the rising of a full moon.

Frieza took a small sip of his wine, a forked purple tongue slipping out to lick his lips. "So, Vegeta, I suppose you'd like to get down to business, as they say."

"That would be ideal." King Vegeta calmly agreed, regaining his composure, but Nappa could see his tail tightening around his waist.

"Fine." Frieza held out his hand, and the green alien wordlessly took the wine glass away. "The soldiers you've 'lent' to me have been most useful, they make most excellent grunts and decoys."

Vegeta clenched his fists, his fury barely contained. "Those soldiers are some of my finest, they are not meant to be grunts or decoys. They should be commanding legions, pushing the enemy, not used for cannon fodder."

Frieza shrugged dispassionately, as if the condemnation of good men was of little concern to him. "Their power levels placed them as grunts, so unless you can scrape up more capable soldiers they will continue to be grunts."

King Vegeta opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by a silencing white hand. The Saiyans stared at the smooth skin and long manicured fingers, wondering just how much power was contained in that one hand. Nappa thought he could feel it bending his bones. "Speaking of more soldiers, I must request another donation."

Vegeta blanched, red faced and cutting his hand through the air to emphasise his point. "Absolutely not!"

Frieza placed an offended hand over his chest. "Excuse me?"

The King didn't buy the false display in the slightest, unwilling to bend despite the danger Nappa could literally feel pressing on them. "I have already given you a third of my army,"

"Yes, and now I require more." Frieza's bored tone and inconsiderate demeanor infuriated the Saiyans. A chorus of low growls could be heard and the aliens flanking the throne snickered in sick amusement.

"That is ridiculous, you can't expect me to-"

"King Vegeta, I feel that I am being more than fair in this trade," Frieza cut in, the sincerity in his voice so thick Nappa nearly choked on it. "You give me soldiers, and I give you intergalactic relations, technology, trade, _protection_ ," The pink creature then settled back into his throne, long fingers steepled in front his face. "You could do with a great deal of protection."

"We don't need your protection." Vegeta said through gritted teeth. He sounded extremely convincing, but Nappa knew his King enough to know that the subject was making him more than a little uncertain.

"Yes, I think you do." Frieza's long, white tipped tail began to rhythmically tap the side of his throne, the smile on his face strained. His head tilted slightly to the side, the dim light gleamed dangerously on his sharp black horns. "I can make a very valuable ally to you. You wouldn't want me to be anything else."

Nappa watched his King struggle to find a foothold. Frieza had their backs against a wall and they were quickly losing control over the conversation, not that they ever had any. It was a long time before King Vegeta visibly swallowed his pride, deciding it would be best to not take this creature's threats lightly.

"How many more soldiers do you need?"

Frieza grinned, and the stars behind him dimmed. "All of them."

Nappa made a noise of pure dismay as his fellow Saiyans quivered in outrage. King Vegeta shook and boiled over with rage, but he knew he needed to hold himself in check if he was to survive this meeting. "You can't be serious, your request is absolutely absurd!"

"Well I don't think so." Frieza commented casually. He turned to the fuchsia alien on his right. "Dodoria, do you think it's absurd?"

"No, sir, I don't. I think it's a perfectly reasonable request." The alien named Dodoria drawled, the sneer on his face as blunt as the spikes on his head.

"You can't possibly expect me to hand over my entire kingdom!"

"Oh of course not!" Frieza laughed, the shrill sound jarring the King's bones. "You'll still have your kingdom, and i'll just have your army."

"Actually, Lord Frieza," the green alien spoke, his smooth dulcet tones grating on Nappa's nerves. "The majority of the Saiyan population _is_ the Saiyan army. Only a small percentage remain civilians."

Frieza tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I see. Quite unfortunate, but i'm afraid I can't back down from my request."

Nappa didn't know what was going on in his King's mind, and he was sure he didn't want to. He himself was angry, terribly so, but he was also afraid of what might happen if Vegeta refused. War? Genocide? There was good reason why Frieza was so feared. He was as cold as the world he was spawned, more cunning than should be mortally possible, and absolutely delighted in the devastation of others. He had built an empire in the corner of the universe his father had gifted him out of the suffering of every galaxy he conquered. Everyone of every race and planet feared the day Frieza came to start 'negotiations'.

"If you think for one moment that I will _ever_ let you-"

"I think we would make fantastic allies, you and I." Frieza placed his hand over his heart, his eyes cutting jagged holes through the Saiyans' remaining fortitude. "Just think of all the planet's we'd be able to conquer together, with your army joined in mine. I will take our soldiers on a noble crusade across the galaxies fit for a true warrior, and you will hold down the homefront. I don't see how you could deny the opportunity." He rested his head lazily on his hand, eyeing the King like something stuck on the bottom of his boot. "Besides, you're not really in a position to refuse."

"Sir." Nappa said softly, the cold barrel of a ki gun pressed to the back of his neck. Frieza's soldiers moved so quickly and so quietly the Saiyans had no means to prevent themselves from being apprehended.

Vegeta turned slowly to see each member of his guard with strong arms wrapped around their necks and rough hands gripping their tails tight. Nappa stared helplessly at his King, his hands forced behind his back.

Frieza chuckled as the King watched his men struggle, bound and overpowered.

"Let me go you freaks!" One of the Saiyan's tried valiantly to break the hold of the enormous alien behind him. "I said let me go or i'll-"

The green alien snapped his perfectly manicured fingers and before the sound had finished echoing in the room the Saiyan's body hit the floor with a sickening thud, his head facing backwards.

The only sounds in the room were a high pitched giggle and the tapping of a tail against metal.

King Vegeta was no fool, he knew how dealings with Frieza turned out, he'd heard the stories. But damned if he hadn't hoped. Damned if he hadn't thought for a moment he could challenge this tyrant. But now, standing with a knife at his throat and a fist poised over his people he realized there was little choice.

Frieza made a sound of consideration in his throat, his eyes narrowed like a scientist studying a specimen pinned to a lab table. "I quite like that armor." He addressed the alien on his left. "Zarbon, what material is Saiyan armor made of?"

"I believe it is made out of a Pectorium Alloy, native to planet Vegeta." The alien's dulcet tones grated against Nappa's nerves and his fingers itched to wrap around his green skinned neck.

"Can we make it stronger?"

"I'll order our lab technicians to fabricate a more improved material. I'm sure it won't take too long to produce."

"Excellent! Begin research right away." Frieza turned his attention back to the Saiyans, looking like his day couldn't get any better. "I should also like to add the designs of your Saiyan armor to the agreement. This is acceptable, yes? Good." He moved on before his 'guests' could get a word in, the red skin of his lips stretching into a horrid gash across his face.

"So, mighty King of the Monkeys," Vegeta forced his eyes to meet Frieza's, a tremble of deep shame threatening to bend his spine. "Do we have a deal?"

Something sick and cold was roiling inside of Nappa's gut and his eyes found the planet he called home. For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt as if it was being pulled further and further away. The sound of his King's defeated voice only fueled this overwhelming sorrow.

"Deal." King Vegeta stood tall as he condemned his race to hell, his head held high, tail wrapped firmly around his waist.

Frieza clapped his hands together. "Splendid! Now that we've got that nasty bit of business out of the way we can enjoy more pleasurable company." He reached out his hand and Zarbon placed the re-filled wine glass within the waiting fingers. "Can I interest you in some wine? It's Vivivshka, imported all the way from Procnar in the Xylon sector."

King Vegeta glared at the liquid and sneered. "No," he growled, hands fisted at his sides.

Frieza rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're no _fun,_ Vegeta. Very well, I suppose we're done here. Dismissed."

The Saiyan's turned on their heels to storm out of the room. Nappa eyed his fallen comrade and decided to leave him where he lay. If he was foolish enough to try and challenge Frieza's men without an order from his King then the man could very well rot there.

They were nearly out and Nappa prepared a sigh of relief when Frieza's piercing voice nearly stopped his heart.

"Oh! I almost completely forgot, how abhorrently rude of me. Please do forgive me Vegeta."

Nappa shared a look with his King before Vegeta slowly turned around, apprehension in his eyes. What did the lizard want now? What more could he take?

"I heard you've recently sired a son."

Vegeta had never felt such dread before, not in a thousand battles won and lost. _No_. He begged the Saiyan ancients. _Not this._

Frieza's gin was like a bleeding wound. "I believe congratulations are in order, you must be very proud."

Vegeta swallowed around the hatred in his throat. "Yes. He will make a fine King one day."

"Powerful?"

"He is heir to the Saiyan throne, of course he will be strong."

Frieza seemed to consider him for a moment, his voice was flat. "And here I am without a gift to give, where are my manners."

Vegeta shook his head, his body so tense he shook. "That is not necessary."

"But of course it is." Frieza leaned forward in his throne. "I feel terrible, just terrible, truly. I'll have Zarbon send a gift fit for a prince at once."

King Vegeta knew that any refusal would go over well. He simply nodded and waited to be dismissed- hoping to be dismissed. _Please let that be all he wants._

Frieza smiled at him, his eyes holding the Saiyan King Prisoner for a long time. The Saiyans waited, barely daring to breathe. Nappa dreaded the worst. _Not the Prince_ …

Finally, Frieza sat back in his throne. "Well, if that's all…" He trailed off, taking a sip of his wine.

Vegeta nodded, and turned quickly to leave. Every step he took felt like he was walking further into his grave and when the black doors closed behind him he couldn't even manage a breath of relief, his despair was too great.

Nappa watched his King, his fingers numb and steps heavy. "Sir?"

The King grunted, and Nappa took that as permission to speak.

"Were being conquered, aren't we?"

"No Nappa, we're being enslaved."

* * *

Behind the closed black doors the pink liquid swirled gently in the crystal wine glass. A Black sharpened nail lightly scratched the surface.

Zarbon observed Lord Frieza, deciding to take advantage of his rare good mood. He took a small step towards the hovering throne.

Frieza waited a few long moments to acknowledge him, not taking his eyes off the doors. "Yes?"

"Permission to speak freely, Lord Frieza."

"Of course Zarbon, what's on your mind?"

Zarbon stepped up beside his Lord, staring straight ahead. "Do you think it is wise to play with these monkeys?"

Frieza chuckled. "Come now Zarbon. Do you doubt me?"

"Not at all, my Lord-"

"Then what is your issue?"

Zarbon breathed deeply. "We've never taken an entire race into our ranks."

"No, we have not." Frieza said, examining the wine left in his glass. Indeed it was not something normally done. Courage and blind stupidity grew strength in numbers, Frieza knew this. Yet these monkeys are most useful to him, it would be foolish to let them go to waste.

"It's risky. It might be dangerous to anger them, should they revolt-"

"I'm surprised, Zarbon, in your lack of faith in me." Frieza's' tone completely lacked surprise or amusement.

The alien's skin took on a paler shade of green. "I have complete-"

"If these Saiyans prove to be a problem I can easily obliterate them." Frieza deadpanned, his eyes dark. "They are nothing compared to me. Compared to you, too, Zarbon." His eyes shifted to the lieutenant and the green skin of his neck bobbed as he swallowed. "Do you doubt yourself?"

"No, Lord Frieza."

Dodoria chuckled from the other side of the throne, his large belly jumping. "You worry too much Zarbon. We've got them thick skulled apes scared shitless. Did ya see how they ran with their tails between their legs?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Frieza said with a disgusted sneer.

Zarbon bowed his head. "Of course you're right, Lord Frieza, forgive my ignorance. They are just dumb brutes."

And that was precisely why Frieza knew he had to keep an eye on them. Dumb brutes had a knack for ignoring reason and thinking they could defeat the odds. He had seen it happen many times before, and each time was no less annoying than the last. Anyone stupid enough to go up against the Cold Empire deserved a long and painful death, something in which Frieza delighted in giving, but it was oh so tiresome when it happened nearly every other week. Honestly, one would think his subjects would know better, what with all the examples he'd made in the past.

Having the Saiyans under his control would make an excellent example. Putting a leash on the galaxy's most unruly and ruthless of species would prove just how powerful his empire had become.

 _That'll show Cooler, the smug bastard._

Though Frieza was no fool, he knew keeping the entire Saiyan race under his control was easier said than done. Saiyans had a thirst for blood and a temper that lead to unpredictable behaviors. But their pride and their loyalty, in which they ruled themselves on, would ultimately be their leash.

"The one thing we can be certain of Saiyans is their loyalty to their King."

Zarbon smirked, the shadows of his handsome face darkening. "So as long as we control the King monkey we control the entire barrel."

"Loyalty runs out." Dodoria argued.

Frieza smiled. "That it does." He raised his hand, and a maroon sphere of deadly ki formed above his palm. It sparked and throbbed with power, casting darkness throughout the room even though the ki itself shined brightly, like a star before it swallowed it's system whole. "Fear and power rule all."

Dodoria eyed the ball of ki, both awed and envious of the overwhelming amount of raw power contained in that one effortless form. "So when they start fearing you more than their King and revolt themselves, what then?"

"It is unlikely that they would go against royal decree, no matter how much they fear us." Zarbon looked across at Dodoria. "Loyalty and honor before the throne is everything to a Saiyan. If their King told them to hang themselves on their own tails they would do so without question."

Dodoria huffed and rolled his eyes. "What a bunch of hoohas."

Frieza snorted, dissipating the ki. "Uhg, how terribly droll."

He mulled the meeting over in his head. An amused smirk broke over his face and his ruby eyes gleamed maliciously. He had King Vegeta bent at the knee in submission- for now. There would come a time when the Saiyan King grew bold, and his obedience would not be so easily maintained. His thoughts turned to the Prince.

"Zarbon, arrange for a gift to be sent to the royal house of Vegeta in honor of the Prince's birth."

"Certainly, my Lord. Did you have anything specific in mind?"

Frieza finished his wine, and held the glass up to the light to examine it. The subtle stains left on the glass could almost look like blood. "Perhaps."


	2. Chapter 2: Games

The sands of Vegeta were scorching in their intensity, the stone ground seemed to melt beneath Bardock's boots. The two suns, Tarble and Sai, wept heat over the barren landscape, making him feel as if he were swimming in a bottomless ocean. Or maybe he was just drowning in his own sweat beneath his armor. Bardock wiped his brow, his meager pay for the day jingling in the small leather sack he held.

He would have flown, but his Saiyan pride kept him from doing so. In between missions he worked as a blacksmith outside the palace making armor; his old job from when he was a boy. There weren't as many missions to take anymore- for anyone -which meant more third class Saiyans looking for work, which also meant fewer hours and larger pay cuts. He didn't need Gine to know that his average work day at the forge had been cut in half. She would only worry.

So he took his time getting to the dwelling they shared, on foot. Just over the hill, he could see the top of the spire through a shimmering haze of heat. Kami, the suns were furious today.

As he neared the dwelling he did not detect the sharp scent of krylat meat roasting over a fire and he frowned, his stomach growled loudly in protest. This was becoming a dreadfully common occurrence.

He pushed aside the tattered sheet covering the front archway, his eyes adjusting to the cool darkness. No one was in the dwelling, but he knew at least Gine should have been there. Her shift at the meat distribution center should have ended by then, but perhaps she had managed to pick up another one...

That's when he picked up the lull of her voice, drifting on a gust of smoldering wind.

He went out into the heat once more, circling around the dwelling and finding the back of a woman standing with her legs spread and arms crossed. A young boy trained under her watch.

He came up behind Gine, her charcoal hair rippled like a field of burnt grass around her shoulders as another gust of wind howled past their ears. Her brown furred tail unwrapped from around her waist to wave mischievously by her bare ankles.

"You're back early."

Even walking hadn't killed enough time. She was getting more suspicious by the day.

Bardock stopped beside her. "I finished early."

"Hm. No surprise there," she teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She didn't take her eyes off of the child practicing the techniques she had shown him earlier. Gine had never been much of a fighter; she just didn't have the drive. Bardock had always said that she was too soft to throw a hard punch. But she had excellent form, something she had passed down to her child.

Bardock shifted his gaze from his mate to his son. The boy's long wild hair danced around his ankles as he threw punches and kicks at an invisible enemy.

"Raditz," he called, and the child's full attention was on his father. "Keep your center low. You're all over the place."

Raditz nodded, sweat drenching his heaving chest, and refined his stance.

"And keep that tail tight!"

Bardock watched his son, his expression guarded. In truth, he was impressed with the child's development. Raditz had all the skill and technique of any second class, maybe even first class with time and the right training. The only thing he lacked was a substantial power level. Raditz, like most lower classes, had been born weak. He had just barely passed the criteria for being sent off planet to prove he was worth being kept a part of the Saiyan population. But that did not excuse him from having to prove his worth, and the first person he had to impress was his father.

Bardock began his son's training right away, as early as the Saiyan child could walk. His son was going to make something of himself. No way was he going to remain "just a third class dog" for his entire life.

But for all the training, all the days drilling battle and perfection into the boy's head, Raditz was cursed with an average third class power level.

Bardock's fists tightened at his sides.

"Give him time. He's just a boy." Gine murmured to him. Her tail wrapped around his calf, the fur soft on his battle hardened skin. "You remember how low your power level was at his age?"

It was true. Bardock had been just like any other Saiyan in his class. Weak, without any hope of reaching beyond what was considered normal for a third class. Or so he'd been told.

He refused to be nothing more than target practice and cannon fodder to the upper classes. He was determined to raise above the stigma. Damned if he was going to live his life under someone's disapproval.

So he'd worked himself to the bone and trained until he felt death nearly seize in his chest. He'd gotten stronger, far stronger than what the elites thought he should be. Needless to say, they didn't like Bardock very much. But, then again, Bardock didn't care very much.

Still, watching Raditz perfect what had been taught to him, Bardock feared he had inherited more from his mother than just her form; he didn't think the boy truly had it in him.

Gine snatched the small sack out of his hand. She peered inside and shifted through the coins with a long finger. Her eyes met his and a deep frown lined her angled features. He saw the question in her dark eyes, the rising concern. He stared back at her, giving absolutely nothing away.

She turned on her heel, tossing the sack back to him. "I'm going hunting. Your son eats just about as much as you do these days." She then took off, leaving a cloud of red dust where her feet stood bare on the stone.

Hunting? Gine only did that when she needed to clear her head. Either that or the portions of meat she brought home from her work were being reduced even more. Bardock had a sinking feeling that it was a combination of the two, meaning a headache for him.

He sighed as she streaked across the sky, a slender blue comet against the roiling purple sky. Eventually, the problem would be brought up, and she would be worried, and he would angry, then she would also be angry. They'd probably end up pummeling each other into the dirt for a while, then pummel each other in the bedroom. He allowed a small smirk at that. Gine might not have been much of a fighter, but she still had that fiery Saiyan side of her that could be set ablaze with the right spark.

Such was the way Saiyan arguments went- at least between mates.

Bardock was still trying to find the right spark to ignite his son's potential. It had to be there; all warriors had it.

Raditz continued to train and Bardock continued to watch, wordlessly. The child looked about ready to collapse from the late day heat, exhaustion making his movements sloppy, but he continued this brutal regime under his father's watchful eye.

Bardock heard his son's labored breathing, saw the sluggish execution of his punches, the stumbling of his feet. Sweat blinded him, exhaustion crippled him, yet still the boy continued to train.

He wanted to see his son succeed. He wanted Raditz to become something more than what Bardock had always been told a third class deserved all his childhood. From the time he could talk the boy would go on and on endlessly about how he would one day become a strong warrior and conquer planets, just like his father. He listened in awe to the stories Bardock told him about his many adventures and fantastic battles late into the night. He learned to read early, just so he could fill his head with the history of Saiyan warriors passed, something not many of their race even bothered with.

Raditz' dream was to become a warrior who demonstrated honor and pride as fiercely as he wielded strength and power. Bardock would do whatever it took to help Raditz become that warrior.

When Raditz threw a punch and was unable to control the momentum he fell hard to his knee, the rocky ground cutting into his flesh. He tried to pick himself up but stumbled, catching the ground for support. Raditz looked over to his father, who stood with his arms crossed and his eyes hard. The look he received said _'you'd better get yourself up, boy, before I drag you up myself'_.

A shaky breath pushed past chapped lips. Raditz dragged himself to his feet and stood unsteadily for a moment before falling back to his knees. His tired limbs were screaming and his chest felt like it was on fire. But nothing compared to the sting of disappointment in Bardock's gaze.

The sense of failure weakened him completely, and his hands hit the ground in defeat.

Silently, Bardock continued to watch, knowing that what you did after failure was what mattered most.

Raditz sucked air in through his teeth. He told himself that the stinging in his eyes was from sweat. He felt sick; the last meal he'd eaten had long been digested since the previous night. He'd been training so hard, working nonstop to perfect what his parents taught him, and yet he remained weak- worthless- a disgrace. A third class Saiyan.

Too exhausted and angry at himself to notice that his father hadn't walked away from him in disgust yet, Raditz pounded the ground with a weak fist. His small body was shaking, bile rising in his throat. He couldn't tell if it was from training so hard on an empty stomach or disgust at himself. He considered the idea of just crawling up to his bed.

He growled to himself. No. He would not crawl on all fours like a dog. He would get up on his feet. He would walk to his bed. There was no other option, he was a Saiyan, damnit! He would do it.

Raditz gripped the ground with trembling hands, the hard rock scorching his fingertips. He pushed, drawing in a breath that felt like fire in his lungs. He forced his shaking legs to straighten, feet planted wide, arms out to catch himself. He wobbled for a few seconds, the world spinning and blacking out at the edges. He was standing, upright, on his own feet. He felt like dying, but he was standing.

He turned his head to the side, only half realizing that his father was still there.

Bardock's expression was hard as he regarded Raditz, but his eyes were bright. The corners of his mouth were tight, as if we were trying not to smile. The kid had better get inside before a gust of wind knocked him over. He jerked his chin in the direction of the dwelling and Raditz followed automatically.

The boy picked up one foot, then the other, and repeated the process as the sound of his father's retreating footsteps guided him towards rest. The pace was slow going, and by the time he shadowed the doorway Bardock was already reclining with his feet up at the table. Raditz went to collapse into a seat and pass out until the next age when his father grunted disapproval.

"Nuh uh, boy." He nodded towards the stairwell. "To your bed. I won't have you drooling all over my table."

Raditz blurrily eyed the shadow of a narrow stairwell that spiraled up to the rest of the dwelling. There was one room per level, and Raditz' bed just happened to be on the fourth landing. He sighed in despair, but went forth without protest.

Bardock watched the dark mass of hair with legs stumble off, amusement stretching the scar on his cheek. He listened to his son's heavy steps make it about halfway up the first landing before hearing a loud thud, then silence.

Bardock chuckled bleakly and rested his head in his hand.

Alone in the dark windowless dwelling he tried to relax and cool off from the day. He began to doze as the twin suns made their descent from the purple sky. Bardock closed his eyes. The afternoon was quiet, the temperature dropping, the glow of the town bled in softly from the arched doorway.

Bardock was on his feet and alert at the sound of someone landing outside the dwelling.

"Yo, Bardock!"

The Saiyan recognized the voice and went to greet his visitor at the door. He had to tilt his head back to fully see the long face with the smug smile blocking out the light coming in from the door.

"Toma, what brings your oversized ass to my territory?"

The tall warrior's chuckle rumbled warmly in the small room. "Maybe I just missed your undersized ass?"

"Impossible," Bardock grinned, "I'm a 'miserable cocky piece of garlicht shit', remember?"

Toma put his hands passively in the air. "Selypa's words, not mine."

Bardock shrugged and returned to his seat. "Yeah, well, she did always have nice things to say about me."

"Can't imagine why. The only thing prettier than your mug is Pumbukin's arse."

The two Saiyan's shared a good humored laugh, the time lost between them settling comfortably. The mention of their old team brought back fond memories and strong comradery. It was as if they had never been apart.

But then Toma's face grew grim as he pulled up a chair. "But in all seriousness, Bardock, there's something I came to speak with you about."

Bardock leaned forward in his seat, his interest piqued at the dark foreboding in Toma's voice. It wasn't often his most trusted comrade stopped grinning.

"It's something I heard while on guard duty."

He frowned. Toma worked as a guard on the palace's grounds and wasn't much for gossiping, especially if it had anything to do with the royal family. If he took a word passing through the royal guard this seriously and felt the need to confide in Bardock then it was definitely big, and definitely not good.

"Vegeta's handed the entire Saiyan army over to Frieza."

" _What?_ "

"Apparently some of his delegates are coming down to work out the details."

Disbelief and outrage burned throughout Bardock's entire body. Toma seemed equally murderous at the concept. "How could he? The fool! Does he realize what he's done?" Bardock shot out of his seat to pace across the room.

"Vegeta is no fool," Toma seethed, his large hand rubbing the back of his neck furiously. "But this decision he's made is just dumb-fuck stupid."

Bardock rested his arm against the wall, not trusting himself to speak lest he say something treacherous.

Toma gestured wildly with his hands, his voice heavy with accusation. "What will this mean for us? The _entire_ Saiyan army. They're saying they're going to establish a base here. They're making us a part of the Cold Empire!"

"Frieza must have King Vegeta by the throat. Why else would he fuck his people like this?" Bardock made eye contact with his comrade, the cold reality of the situation shifting their rage.

Toma shook his head, jaw tight. "I thought we were going to resist Frieza. Fight back. Not join him."

Bardock's eyes stared out the arched door at the town glowing warm with life. The palace stood as a sharp silhouette against the darkening purple sky, the twin suns having already set behind it. "Obviously King Vegeta doesn't think that's an option. He must have some kind of plan."

"I don't know..."

Tiny pinpricks of light appeared through the palace windows, giving the illusion that the kingdom was on fire. He wondered if his King was pacing like a madman or if he was sitting with his head in his hands.

"I trust Vegeta," Toma went on to say, "But I don't trust Frieza. That slimy lizard is all wrong."

Bardock slowly stepped away from the wall. "There's nothing we can do." He took a seat back at the table, facing Toma's sour features. There really was nothing they could do but fester in this new wound; it was up to their King to clean it.

Toma's face lost it's angry edge, and the tall warrior's tail tapped his leg thoughtfully. "They're still holding the festival for the new prince next moon set."

"So he's just going to act like nothing's happening."

"That seems to be his plan."

"Then we must do the same." Bardock slipped off his red wrist wraps, letting them plop on the table with more deliberation than what should be considered casual. "For the time being."

He felt Toma eye him with the scrutiny of a long time friend. "It's not like you to sit on your tail and wait."

A bitter huff escaped him and his head tilted back to glare at the ceiling. "It's not like our people to allow themselves to be chained. All sorts of strange things are happening."

"Speaking of strange…"

Both warriors' heads turned as someone landed heavily just outside. Gine snapped the cloth aside as she appeared in the doorway, dragging with her a fresh kill. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of the ponytailed Saiyan sitting at her table.

"Thought I smelled a rat."

"Gine, always a pleasure," Toma snickered as the Saiyan woman dragged her prize over to the butcher's counter. "Nice kill. Were all the bigger, healthier choices picked over?"

"Who? The beast? Or this krylat I just caught?"

Toma laughed boisterously in Bardock's face. Gine easily hefted the large zebra-like creature on the stained surface, a teasing smile on her face.

"Well aren't you two just a regular couple of assholes," Bardock shot back, the smirk hidden in his eyes.

Gine turned her head to address the men, her wild hair swinging across her shoulders. "Toma, are you staying?" She asked with a welcoming smile while producing a butcher knife from Kami knows where.

Toma's stomach growled like a rabid beast at the offer, but his face fell with regret. "Nah, got guard duty tonight."

The warrior stood up from his chair, smacking Bardock upside the head as he went. Bardock retaliated by lobbing a mug that bounced harmlessly off of Toma's head.

"Get lost."

Toma straightened his ice blue battle armor, smirking at the familiar treatment from his teammate. "Thanks for your hospitality, Bardock, but I should get going."

"No, thank _you_ for the intrusion on my territory. Always a treat."

Toma cackled at the heavy sarcasm. "Anytime!" He placed a quick smacking kiss on Gine's cheek to which she grimaced in feigned disgust as he ducked out of the dwelling. "I'll see you in the ring, Bardock!" And then he was gone, leaving a cloud of red dust and an echo of his laughter.

Gine chuckled as she wiped the saliva off of her reddened cheek. "I thought he was dead."

"No, unfortunately." Bardock relaxed back into his seat but the uneasiness remained embedded deep in his muscles.

"Why was he here? He didn't stay very long."

He wondered if he should tell Gine, but decided that he was too tired to go through the trouble. Probably would be better for him in the long run if he came to her with it now instead of her finding out about it later and realizing he knew and hadn't told her. But Bardock was never one for doing things he didn't particularly want to do.

"Just passing by before work, I guess."

Gine said nothing as she cut into her kill. Bardock closed his eyes and tried to relax. No use remaining all riled up over something he couldn't control.

He cracked an eye open when he heard Gine hum in confusion, the sound sweet and soft, like her. She was searching around the room for something, the tip of her tail twitching in thought. He didn't offer any assistance.

She mumbled to herself. "Must be upstairs…"

Bardock folded his hands behind his head while his mate disappeared into the stairwell. He hoped something good came out of this whole deal with Frieza. Maybe, with all of them working under the Cold Empire, there'd be more missions to take up. Then the money wouldn't be an issue, and he wouldn't have to confront Gine. Assuming that they'd get paid, of course. Otherwise, they'd be no more than sla-

His eyebrow twitched as he heard a thump followed by a vicious curse come from the stairwell. A few seconds later Gine's head appeared around the corner to glare murder at him.

' _Oh yeah… Raditz…'_

He shrugged in her direction and went back to lounging at the table.

Gine growled deep in her throat. "Worthless piece of…"

Was it mentioned that her spark was usually him being… well, him?

Bardock heard her pick up something lightly from the floor and continue up the steps, all the while cursing his name.

* * *

As a Saiyan, Onyonna had always been told that her hands were far too delicate. She didn't think so. Sure, her fingers were long and slender, the skin tan and smooth. She lacked the callouses that marked a 'true warrior', and not once had she ever broken a nail. But she never thought they were too delicate when she withdrew her arm from deep within an enemy's belly and gripped in her hand his still beating heart. She didn't think they were too pure with blood dripping from her knuckles and flesh beneath her nails.

No, the only thing delicate about her hands was when she held her newborn baby. When she ran her fingers through the his hair. When she stroked a thumb down his cheek.

She didn't think anything could make her chest feel so warm. Not the body of her enemy sprawled at her feet, not an entire kingdom under her gaze. Simply the soft cuff of his tail around her wrist and the happy growl when she tickled his full tummy.

Onyonna had so much pride for her son, so much that she thought she might burst. She wanted to be there for every moment his strength improved, every victory and defeat, every triumphant smile and angry frown.

She wondered at what kind of a warrior he would grow to be. Strong. Driven. Honorable. Even now as she watched him in his chamber, throwing his tiny fists and feet in a form of baby kata, she knew he would become great one day.

The Prince's bedchambers were dark, the heavy drapes were drawn against the twin suns. The only light in the room came from the soft ivory shimmer of a glow crystal suspended in the domed glass of his cradle.

Prince Vegeta curiously explored his hair with his fingers, trying to pull it down and stick it into his mouth. He babbled in frustration when it wasn't long enough to eat. He heard a warm sound that he instantly recognized as _mother_ , and tried to turn his head so he could see her, searching the darkened corners of his room. When she remained out of his range of sight he desperately reached out a chubby hand in the direction he heard her laughter.

"I'm here, little one." Queen Onyonna spoke softly from her seat near the window.

But the Prince was not satisfied with only hearing her voice. He called out to her, yet still she did not come. This would not due.

With a little grunt of anger the baby tried twisting his body, throwing his weight to one side, flailing his tail, anything so he could see his mother.

Onyonna eyed her struggling baby curiously. He was trying to flip himself over, something he shouldn't be able to do for a little while yet. But he seemed determined, and as she saw him reach an arm over and grip the blanket for leverage, capable.

She stood up then, and began to circle the chamber. The Prince followed her long, slow steps with his ears. He grunted again, still trying to turn over. When his grip slipped and he flopped onto his back again he kicked his legs in fury.

The Queen continued in the shadows to circle him, the glow crystal licking at her feet. But even with her features blurred by the absent light she was now fully in the Prince's view, at last. But he wasn't about to give up on what he started.

He tried the other side this time, arms and legs flailing. He used his tail to push and gripped handfuls of red velvet to pull. Again and again he tried, falling flat on his back each time. The Queen offered no words of encouragement, only circling slowly, round and round.

Prince Vegeta's face was scrunched up tight in fury and determination. He shook his fists and snarled at the glass covering him, swearing that he would roll over even if it took him all night. One last time he heaved, and grabbed, and pulled. With a mighty roar from little lungs he rolled his body with such force he nearly rolled all the way over onto his back again. He lay flat on his stomach, red face slack in disbelief. Then, a huge toothless smile broke across his face and he squealed in triumph. He did it, he had beat biology. He was unstoppable!

Queen Onyonna knelt before the chamber, delicate fingers pressed against the glass. "You did it! I'm so proud of you."

Vegeta reached out to her, trying to scoot closer. That gleam of determination was back as he attempted to tuck his arms and legs beneath himself.

"Oh no you don't." Onyonna stepped around the chamber and reached inside to place a hand on her baby's back. He showed tremendous strength by turning himself over, but he wasn't developed enough to take on crawling just yet. "Sleep now, little warrior. You've done well."

The Prince's little brown tail wrapped securely around her forearm, and he buried his yawn into the red blankets. Within moments his midnight eyes were drooping and small sighs of sleep flared his nostrils.

The Queen unwrapped herself from her son and dimmed the glow crystal with a stroke of her finger. She waited until Vegeta was dreaming peacefully before she slipped from the room, leaving the shadows undisturbed.

Outside the immaculately carved doors a team of guards stood their vigil, backs straight and eyes at attention. More than the usual today, the Queen counted. Frieza's men were there in the palace discussing the fine details of the most recent 'deal'. Her tail bristled at the thought of that vile creature's brutes defiling the halls of her home- stalking where she walked, contaminating what she touched.

She wasn't allowed to attend the meeting. Her mate was locked behind closed doors with monsters come to strip them of all that made them Saiyan. And he faced them alone. Well, not completely alone; Nappa was there with him. But she should be as well. She should be at his side as his Queen, feeding his strength with her own.

But the King thought it best that she stay out of the meeting, to be accessible in the palace.

" _Should something happen, you must be available to address it in my absence. That is your duty as Queen."_

Bullshit, mind the un-queenlike language, but Onyonna knew for a fact that this was a personal dilemma for him, not just professional. It was his damn pride and his need to prove that he could rule his kingdom without aid. He needed to prove that he had control. But pride didn't matter when everything you were fighting for was falling to pieces.

 _No,_ she told herself, _it hasn't come to that yet_.

She had faith in the King, and faith in her mate. He could take care of this, with or without her physically beside him. Until such a time when he needed her hand to steady his aim she would rule while he dealt with Frieza, and she would raise their son a prince.

But that didn't mean she couldn't be bitter.

A march through the palace usually put her mind at ease. The drafty halls and twisting corridors comforted her with their familiarity; how they never seemed to change. The same red stone, the same jagged corners, and always the same smells.

Onyonna favored the smell of the Hall of Kings above all others. It's scent was old and full of history, like the scrolls and tomes of the archives. But those dusty piles of parchment bound in leather were dead and forgotten. The Hall of Kings was alive with Saiyan culture, it pulsed with the heart of her people. The lingering scents of warriors and Kings long past humbled her and filled her with pride.

But today, something was wrong. The scent was off. She noticed immediately as she neared the hall, her nose flaring in disgust. The scent itself was pleasant, but it reminded the Queen of something far more sinister. There was something putrid, like rotting teeth and charred hair, that curled in the air like a sick lover's caress. It smelled of death and malice.

Her steps did not falter as she entered the hall. She spotted the impurity like a house fire in the night. There near the wall, the back of a tall alien. A long green braid trailing down it's white cape screamed femininity, but the set of it's shoulders belonged to a man's figure.

One of Frieza's men, no doubt. Queen Onyonna decided to leave the question of why this alien was wondering unattended through the palace halls for later. She glanced around for any guards but there were none. She would have to oversee a _very_ thorough refinement of their security.

Frieza's minion turned as she drew near. He had the gall to look caught off guard, as if he hadn't been able to detect her approach. His features were angular on his flawless sea green skin, like the creatures she once battled on the planet Farlifon. Elves; agile and tricky, elegant. But this was no elf. Though his face was soft, his body was sculpted with hardened muscle; the suit of an experienced warrior. His armor was decorated as a high officer.

 _Zarbon_. The Queen had heard many words about him from the King and his Commander.

Her lip curled in false pleasantry as he smiled at her, a dazzling display of perfect white teeth.

"Don't mind me, my Lady, I was just…" His amber eyes cast a distasteful glance around the hall. "Observing the artwork. Quite immaculate. Were these carved using stonetools or fingernails?"

She approached him casually, hands folded over her armored abdomen. "Ki, actually. No tool can mar these stones."

They settled into a silence that writhed in the still air. The smile was still on Zarbon's face, but his eyes ticked with anticipation. An elegant ripple of his cape challenged her as he pivoted.

Zarbon began to pace the length of the wall, his fingernail lightly scraping along the stone, leaving a scar cutting across the faded carvings. The Queen watched the red dust falling to the floor.

"I know the tongue, but, regrettably, I do not know the ancient scripts of your people." He continued his slow strides on long legs, each footstep corrupting the history of the Saiyan people. "Tell me, this story illustrated here. Is it perhaps a gripping tale of some _warrior,_ " he spat the word, "honorably conquering a weak civilization, wielding a savage display of power?"

The Queen followed him, trailing her fingers along the scar, soothing the marked red stone.

"It tells of a great hero, the First King, defeating our ancient enemies who would have seen us fall from our newly born throne. It is a most celebrated piece of our history. It speaks of our strength and devotion." Her eyes bore into the back of Zarbon's white cape. "Of our unwillingness to so easily give in."

Zarbon stopped, the red dust continued to fall like blood from a wound.

"I'm sure," he said, his tone light and empty. He turned around, eyes scanning the Queen in the same way he regarded whores that strayed too far from their pens. He smiled. "My, you are positively glowing! You have the radiance of a new mother."

The Queen returned his smile, but her eyes were as hard as the gripping of her hands.

"Forgive me, but i'm afraid i've already forgotten the little tyke's name."

Onyonna raised her chin. "The Prince's name is Vegeta, Dawn Born and Son of the Moon."

Zarbon's expression was unimpressed. "Ah yes, now I recall. You monkeys name all of your first born heirs after one another. How cute."

The Queen's tail twitched and bristled. "Vegeta is a strong name, it means honor and absolute power. It's been passed down the line since the first born king of Vegeta."

"I meant no disrespect," Zarbon said, but his tone was flat.

She turned her sharp profile on him, stepping away. "Of course not. You're just ignorant."

He sucked his teeth at her, eyes narrowing. "My my, is that any way to speak to your guest?"

"You are no guest."

Zarbon chuckled at the venom laced on her tongue. "You're right. Before long, as we stand here, _you_ will be a guest in Lord Frieza's territory."

The Queen stopped, her head turned sharply to snarl at him. "What makes you think we will let you take what is ours so easily?"

"My dear Lady," His angelic face softened, honey curling his words. "Isn't that what you're doing already?"

The Hall darkened considerably, the shadows writhing, calling for blood. Queen Onyonna could hear the voices of her forebears screaming war in her ears.

Her one desire was to tear that smug smile right off Zarbon's pretty face. He was playing with her, like a toy he'd grow bored of before the suns set. This was all a game, it wasn't even war to him. He thought the Saiyan race held no threat to him and his precious overlord. This was a man who commanded and served fear, who's only esteem was in power. Manipulation against honorable battle. This was no warrior. This was a child with a big stick against a colony of ants.

"You have no honor."

For a moment, Zarbon blinked, thrown off by the comment. Then he scoffed in dried astonishment. "And you do?"

"Saiyans have far more honor than you can ever pretend to have."

Zarbon laughed then; the sound would have been warm and charming had the biting tone not set her blood ablaze with hatred.

"I've seen the way you monkeys show your 'honor', and i'm sure Lord Frieza has no desire to have a statue of himself made from dung."

It was Onyonna's turn to step forward. "You talk far too much, _soldier_."

Zarbon's lip curled. The storm in her obsidian eyes searing her words into his nerves.

"You serve your Lord with your tongue. Our people honor their royal house through loyalty. They have proved they are worthy enough to serve the throne by their willingness to fight. To honor their King, our people need only bend on one knee, not two. They have no need to fill their mouths with their leader's… favor."

The Queen's eyes sparked with amusement at Zarbon's flush of anger at her implications. She couldn't help the smirk from forming on her lips, far from what was expected of a Queen, but the satisfaction was too great. Like with most men, she had found the weak spot.

Zarbon reigned in his anger. "You think that using politics and tact is dishonorable?"

"Not dishonorable, just dirty." She said with a flash of her eyelashes.

The tall green alien visibly puffed out in anger. "Yes, and you _dirty monkeys_ wielding your power like a club and parading across the galaxy like savages somehow doesn't rightfully place you beneath those of us with a brain."

"The only thing that places the likes of you above a Saiyan is your fear of getting down and working for what you keep. To chip your pretty nails, bloody your pearly teeth. You are no warrior."

"And I suppose barbarism makes you one?"

"A true warrior wins his battles using a sword made of metal, not of flesh."

For a moment, something hideous rippled across the flawless features of Zarbon's face. His voice dropped to a guttural baritone as he spat, " _you miserable wench!_ "

Queen Onyonna did not back down as the much taller alien took a menacing step towards her. Her head was high, her eyes steadily glaring into his. She boldly took another step forward, meeting him halfway.

Zarbon glared down at the Saiyan woman, his eyes livid, a snarl twisting his full lips. "What a shame it would be, My Lady, if the Prince were to grow up without any parents."

Her lips peeled back to bare her teeth. "Is Frieza's empire threatening my kingdom, breaking the contract he so carefully negotiated with an act of war?"

The space around them boiled with rising ki levels. Zarbon's eyes shifted down to the Queen's hands, dangerous Ki pooled around her fists like clear flowing water. He took air in through his nose and exhaled in a deep chuckle.

"In due time, monkey Queen, you will get yours. You and the rest of your ilk."

"Not before I twist that pretty braid around your neck, reptile."

There was a riot of unbridled hatred seething in the few inches between them. Zarbon's smile was tight while Onyonna's snarl was vicious and outright.

At last Zarbon took the steps away to a comfortable distance. Gone was the tight anger from his face, replaced by the pleasant composure he kept at their first meeting.

"Of course, My Lady." He placed a hand elegantly over his chest and bowed low, his dark green braid falling over his shoulder. "Forgive me. It seems I have overstayed my welcome."

He straightened back into his full height. Onyonna said nothing as she had to tilt her chin up to return his gaze. Both of their expressions were guarded, but their eyes held nothing back. He was walking away before she could smash her fist into his too straight nose.

"After all, I only came to drop off a gift for the Prince."

Onyonna stilled at the mention of her son.

"I do so hope he enjoys it. Good day!"

And then he was gone, his white cape vanishing around the corner, only his putrid stench left behind. Queen Onyonna didn't have enough time to consider making sure he left the palace before she was racing off to her baby's room in a flurry of her skirts.

* * *

King Vegeta glared distrustfully at the chest displayed before him. It was made of a deep blue crystal, framed with solid gold accent. There was a shadow of something nestled inside, a gift, supposedly. Three guards stood with him around the chest, Nappa dutifully at his side. Vegeta sent a telepathic message to his mate to come at once.

"What do ya think it is?" Nappa asked, crouching down to examine the shadow. At least it wasn't moving around inside.

Vegeta ignored the question, not taking his eyes from the gift. His face was set in a grim mask that rivaled the statues glaring at the Saiyans gathered in the room. He was angry and shameful of the meeting he just held. Forced to submit to Frieza's delegates. How disgraceful. It had been torture to listen to the tyrant's terms, listed like a bale of crimes he'd committed towards his people, starting the moment he ever made a deal with the Cold Empire. His own hand threatened to turn on himself as he signed away his people's freedom.

His dark eyes sharpened to terrifying plummets of malice, his blood red cape quivered in his rage. Here he stood a King; his armor crested with the seal of his house, his regality personified in his every feature, the blood of countless enemies spilled before him, entire worlds conquered by his command. And yet, here he stood a King; laying on his back and playing games with a madman.

How disgraceful.

"And you can detect nothing inside?"

One of the guards held up a square transparent device over the chest. Yellow symbols flashed across the tinted surface. A soft beeping caused the Saiyan to shake her head. "Nothing, your grace."

Nappa scratched the tuft of wild hair on his head. "Seems kinda fishy to me. Maybe we should just destroy it?"

King Vegeta was displeased, to say the least, that Frieza would actually dare to send something so outrageously intrusive. Come to think of it, he wasn't the least bit surprised at all. It was just like the slimy bastard. But what really set the King's blood to boil was the fact that while Frieza's actions may have been predictable, his motives were completely _un_ predictable. What lay waiting inside the chest was anyone's twisted guess. Vegeta didn't think even King Cold would know.

Frieza was known for having an unhealthy love for playing games. But the rules completely depended on the tyrant's ever changing mood.

"No." The King eyed the box like a snake about to strike. "We must know Frieza's game. It could be harmless, and it could be an assassination attempt. We won't know until we open the damn thing."

Just then, the sharp footsteps of the Queen parted the heavy doors. Her long auburn hair curled like a cascade of flames in her wake, and the murder in her eyes told the King that blood must be spilled.

Onyonna had rushed to the Prince's bed chambers nearly faster than the speed of light, heart hammering against the gilded armor framing her chest. She found nothing out of place in the darkened chambers, her baby in the midst of a noisy sleep. The guards reported nothing amiss and yet still she worried, until her mate beckoned her to his side.

She pierced the chest with eyes so fierce King Vegeta thought the crystal might just crack open to reveal it's prize.

She said nothing as she stood beside the King, only passing him a glance that spoke of thousands of thoughts she couldn't voice.

"Open it."

Two Saiyans stepped forward to obey the King's command. The chest opened with a heavy releasing of it's latch and a groan of fine craftsmanship. When nothing jumped out or attacked, the two Saiyans reached inside and pulled out something endless and dark.

Held before them, draping in folds of rich deep purple and shimmering in the light was a blanket emblazoned in white with an intricate royal seal. It was an immaculate piece, carefully crafted. There appeared to be a dusting of precious gems woven into the fabric itself to catch the light. It looked incredibly soft to the touch, lighter than a feather, breathtakingly beautiful.

It filled the Saiyans with revolution.

"Check for toxins"

The next two hours was spent in near silence, only the quiet communications of the guards checking every stitch of the fabric and the occasional bark from their King to "turn it over" or "check again". Vegeta paced restlessly, the stone cracking under his feet. Onyonna toyed with a loose string from the bell of her sleeve. Nappa joined in on the inspection, checking everything the guards had thrice over. They ran their bare hands over the blanket, but no toxins were detected. No hidden razors woven into the stitches, no alien insects, no tracking chips or listening devices. They even scanned it twice more, but nothing came up. There was nothing deadly nor malicious about the piece.

Nappa rubbed the fabric between his fingers. The material was tough, not easily torn or wrinkled, but was impossibly soft.

He spoke to his King. "Sir, it's just a blanket."

But Vegeta knew better. "No. It is an insult." This was Frieza they were dealing with, afterall.

Nappa took another once over of the blanket. It looked like a fancy gift to him.

He must have looked confused because the Queen softly pointed out for him, "look closely at the design."

Nappa squinted his eyes, taking a few seconds to examine it more thoroughly. Well, purple was the royal color of the Ice-jins, and the design was the Cold family's seal…

"Looks more like a threat to me," he said in disdain.

King Vegeta grunted. However taken, the gesture wasn't meant to be friendly. It served it's purpose, however. Vegeta was livid.

"Burn it." He spat, voice tight.

"Wait," Queen Onyonna stepped forward, glancing at the beautiful blanket with a mixture of disgust and sinister delight. "I have a better idea."

Vegeta met her eyes. Cycles ago she wore the same smirk then as she did now; when he was knocked flat on his arse, staring at a charged ki blast in her extended palm, a trail of blood running down her dirt covered brow and into her triumphant eyes. He knew that smirk, and he knew that triumph in her eyes.

"Speak, woman."

* * *

Groils were a popular livestock among Saiyans. Their fatty meat put them in high demand and a part of many well known dishes. Groils were large tusked animals that prefered to roll lazily in patches of mud to cool their sweaty hides during the sweltering heat of the day. They gorged themselves constantly on a healthy diet of sewage, which made them great waste outlets for their domesticators.

The Saiyan palace kept a supply of these creatures to feed the royal family. The Groil pens had recently received an upgrade; reinforced fences, a better shaded area, bigger sewage trophs, and now they even had a lovely purple blanket to trample with their muddy hooves.

The balcony overlooking the stables was graced with the rare presence of the King and Queen. Both monarchs sported rather smug grins, standing very tall under the shadow cast by the flagship partially blocking Tarble's glare.

Prince Vegeta, cradled in his mother's arms, shook a sterling rattle in his fist, enthralled by the gentle chiming of bells. His parents discussed the recent renovations in conspiring volume, their deliberate aloofness lost on the baby as he really just wanted to leave the stinky place. But the rattle was so much fun.

Nappa stood silently, still riding the high of satisfaction that came with watching the blanket dumped in the shit soiled mud- with the utmost care of course. A subtle itching of his neck told him he was being watched. He turned his head, finding himself frozen in place by the black ice of the Prince's gaze.

Vegeta stared owlishly at Nappa, then held out his rattle as if to say _'look at this amazing thing I have that you don't!'_ He shook the toy, making the bells jingle and the sun catch the silver in a brilliant flash. Vegeta smiled and possibly tried to replicate the sound, but only managed a buzzing of his lips that sent spittle down his chin.

"What will we do now?" Queen Onyonna asked of her mate, now openly discussing the situation they and their entire kingdom now faced.

"We abide by the contract." The King crossed his arms, feet set in stubborn alignment to the shuddering stone beneath him.

Onyonna fed off of his anger, a scowl twisting her full lips. "You know as well as I that _contract_ is a chain."

Indeed. King Vegeta could feel that chain latching around his neck, dragging him to his knees while Frieza danced at the other end, tugging and pulling. A puppeteer playing with his toys, a performance for no one but himself.

All the Saiyans could do was try to tangle the strings and hope for the best.

"I don't like this dance," his mate went on. "Having to watch our next steps. Too many politics."

Vegeta attempted a smirk at her expense. "If you're worried about the politics, then we really must be in trouble."

Onyonna usually handled the politics. He much preferred action over diplomacy. Not that the King couldn't manage himself well, he was King after all. But when things got dicy, and the situation became too delicate for unsteady tempers the Queen took over, her charm easily defusing the fires.

"If it's a game Frieza want's, then it's a game he'll get."

She didn't like the sound of that, not against the Cold Empire.

"Frieza won't play fair."

"No." King Vegeta uncrossed his arms and gave the Queen a roguish grin. "But we're Saiyans. When have we ever backed down from a _real_ challenge?"

She grinned back, the spark in her eye answering his confidence. She adjusted the growing child in her arms and blinked at the light reflecting off of his medallion. He shook the rattle at her, then shoved it in his mouth.

Vegeta was hungry again, even though he just fed. A sign of a strong warrior.

A gust of wind set the ribbons in Onyonna's hair reaching like red flames. Prince Vegeta scrunched up his nose at the smell of the stables carried with it. He made a sound that rested somewhere between a cry of outrage and a gag.

"I agree," King Vegeta chuckled at his son, turning on his heel to head back inside the palace. "Come, let us leave this filth."

Queen Onyonna followed close behind. The Prince reached for his father, intrigued by the billowing of his large red cape licking the air like the sea wets it's shore before a storm.

Nappa cast another glance at the now soiled blanket, happy to see that two Groils were engaged in a very active mating display. All over the purple monstrosity. He laughed harshly in the wind, then followed the Royal family inside.

* * *

PSA: Don't fuck with the Queen of all Saiyans.


End file.
